


The Nature of Indifference

by Inzannatea (Zanna23), PhryneFicathon



Series: Overtures and Interludes [7]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Fluff, Murder Mystery, Rilke, Romance, beaten and otherwise, dead horses - Freeform, fake engagement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-02-23 14:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13192008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/pseuds/Inzannatea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhryneFicathon/pseuds/PhryneFicathon
Summary: Chapter 1 starts at the very end of S3E3 Murder and Mozzarella. Phryne and Jack have decided to make do with each other. Their decision is interrupted by a frantic telephone call from Aunt Prudence. They find themselves in a ridiculous situation with mares, murder, made-up matrimony, and a missing marchioness.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Allison_Wonderland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allison_Wonderland/gifts).



> Very special thanks to OllyJay who bossed me into turning this into a short-story and keeping my word count down, even though I failed to do so to her standards.  
> The title is from the extended paragraph of the work from which the Quote Prompt is derived. “I hold this to be the highest task of a bond between two people: that each should stand guard over the solitude of the other.” – Rainer Marie Rilke  
> Not part of the prompt--The quote is from On Love and Other Difficulties and goes on to say, “For, it lies in the nature of indifference and of the crowd to recognize no solitude, then love and friendship are there for the purpose of continually providing the opportunity for solitude. And only those are the true sharings which rhythmically interrupt periods of deep isolation…”

“Looks like you’ll have to make do with me.”

“Looks like we’ll have to make do with each other.” 

Her lips twitched with the effort of schooling her response.

“Is that to share?” she nodded at the bottle. 

“To share and celebrate.”

“How marvelous! What are we celebrating?”

“Our anniversary,” his eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Anniversary? Of?” 

“Of the first time we worked as partners. Of the first time we shared an after-case drink.”

“You hated that I butted into that case!”

“A little.” He tilted his head, “Mostly I was jealous of your talent. Untrained though it was.” He offered a toast. “To partnership.” 

They sipped from their glasses, eyes locked.

Phryne sidled slightly closer. She noted with some small delight that he didn’t withdraw, if anything he invited it. “Is this the tie you bought for our thwarted dinner?” She asked, running her finger lightly along the silk, swirling the circle patterns. She glanced at his eyes, expecting to see the same old nervousness. Her breath caught nearly imperceptibly when she realized his usual fear was gone. He looked so determined. 

His hand closed over hers, lightly stroking her fingers, “It is,” his voice was quiet and deep. Bringing her fingers to his lips, he kissed them with delicate care.

“Jack,” she whispered.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. His words ghosting over her knuckles, sparking a rippling shiver down her spine.

“I’ve got a penny somewhere if you’d like to share,” she said with a nervous smile.

“No need,” he shook his head, taking a deep breath , “I’d like to try for that dinner again.”

She looked at him quizzically, “Ah… I can see if Mr. Butler has...”

His quiet confidence faltered, “No… Miss Fisher… I mean…What I’m trying to say...” he pressed his lips together in frustration. She thought she could see him arguing with himself behind his grey-blue eyes. 

“Jack? Would you like to kiss me?” 

He nodded dumbly.

“Kiss me, Jack.”

He nodded, pulling her to meet his lips. The kiss was tentative at first. Nothing like the kiss of distraction in Café Réplique. The skin of his lips was soft, but the intent behind them was firm. Phryne teased at his mouth with her tongue. A rumbling groan and fingers flexing in her hair rewarded her. She snaked her arms under Jack’s suit jacket, pressing her body close.

The world fell away. Only the heat between them. Only heartbeats syncing. 

“You were saying?” 

“I was?” his voice was deeper than usual, “I was. I was saying… I’d like to reevaluate my liberal-mindedness.”

“Is that so?” Phryne pulled back grinning.

“I know you are who you are… I know… I want to be part of whatever you’ll let me. I need… I need to try.”

“Jack,” she traced her thumb over his now red-stained lips. 

There was a knock. Jack startled from his trance. 

Phryne sighed in annoyance, “Hold that thought,” she commanded.

* * *

She yanked opened the door, “Yes?” she snapped at the usually prescient butler.

“Apologies for the intrusion miss, but your Aunt is on the telephone. She's insisting it’s an emergency.”

Aunt Prudence was a good and loving woman. In many ways Aunt P was more of a mother than her own mother had ever been. She did, however, have the most unfortunate timing. “Oh Phryne,” Aunt P sounded frantic, “Thank goodness! The most dreadful thing has happened.”

“Aunt P? What is it?”

“It’s Philippa… she’s missing!”

Phryne rested her head against the banister in frustration. Lady Philippa Leveson-Bowes had been staying with her aunt for the past week. The women were lifelong friends and now rivals on the track. The Flemington Handicap was tomorrow. Both women had recently acquired personal interests in the race. “Are you sure, Aunt P?” Phryne felt a warm hand on the back of her neck and smiled as strong fingers flexed into her hair. She turned toward Jack slowly. “Maybe she’s just out late?” 

Jack gave her a questioning look. Her eyes darted toward the telephone, she mouthed, “Aunt P.” He nodded and continued massaging the back of her head. Her eyes closed in contented enjoyment.

“It’s more than that,” Prudence’s agitation spiked, “Diadem is dead!”

Phryne’s eyes popped open as she straightened, “Dead?! What happened?”

Jack stopped his massage.

“I don’t know! Oh, Phryne, please come!” Prudence pleaded, “I need your help.”

“Of course, Aunt P. Have you… contacted the police?” She asked whilst stroking a finger down Jack’s face. It was still and serious, but his eyes were dancing with joy; darkening with desire.

“Oh! Phryne would you be a dear and contact them for me?” Prudence begged.

Phryne cupped Jack’s face. Her thumb traced his cheekbone, “I believe I can get ahold of Inspector Robinson,” she smiled wickedly.

“Thank you, Phryne! Please hurry,” with that Aunt P rang off.

Phryne replaced the receiver, “I’m sorry. I really want to continue this… conversation… but…”

“Duty calls,” he smiled slightly at her, “Phryne… I’m glad we had a chance to … talk.”

“Would you like to go together? We could… finish our conversation,” she asked hopefully.

Jack fingered her long, sparkling earrings, “I think it might be better if we arrive separately.” 

Phryne nodded in disappointment. 

“I do want to keep… talking,” Jack hastened, “but perhaps we should figure out what we’re talking about first.”

“Does it matter?” She asked, “Would we have to stop… talking… if we don’t completely agree on the subject?”

“No. I want to keep… talking,” Jack said, “I’ve never been more eager to… converse… and no matter the subject, I want to be part of the conversation. But, for now… until we figure out what that is, I’d prefer we’re not… overheard.”

She smiled, bringing her lips close to his ear, “Secret conversations can be very… titillating.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“Phryne! It’s awful,” Aunt Prudence exclaimed, “Philippa's gone and her room is a mess! And Diadem...”

“What about the other horses?” Phryne asked.

“I don’t know… the veterinarian is coming. Is your Inspector?”

Phryne paused before answering, “Yes, he’ll… be here shortly.”

“Would he agree to stay?”

“Stay? Why?”

“What If someone broke in and took Philippa… or was already here?” Prudence clutched at her throat, “I’d feel safer with him here.”

“I can ask him. I can stay, too. It might be better if we could both be here to investigate.”

“Oh… that could be… unseemly,” Prudence hesitated, “Lord Klempton is here.”

“Horace?” Phryne hated interacting with Horace Jones-Bailey, Earl of Klempton, he was terribly well connected and he had an annoying habit of proposing.

Prudence mused, “Perhaps if we told my guests you are engaged to the Inspector… ”

“Absolutely not.”

Prudence eyed her niece archly, “It’s the only way I can have you both stay here.”

Phryne was skeptical, “I’m not sure Jack will...”

“Try to convince him… I would feel better if you were both here.”

Phryne did see some sense in it. She also saw some opportunity to catch up on their previous… conversation. And an excuse to put off Lord Klempton. 

“Inspector! I’m so glad you’re here,” Aunt Prudence greeted Phryne’s unwitting ‘fiancé’.

“Mrs. Stanley,” Jack turned to Phryne, eyes twinkling, “Miss Fisher.”

“Jack! We’ve just gotten engaged.”

“Sorry?” Jack twinkling eyes dulled to deeply confused.

“We’re engaged. You and I.”

“We’re… you… I… what?” Jack’s confidence transformed into befuddlement.

Prudence leveraged herself awkwardly off the settee. “I’ll have Mrs. Chamberlain set up some rooms.”

Phryne sashayed up to Jack, placing her hands on his lapels.

“Engaged, Miss Fisher? I wanted to move our partnership forward, but this seems a bit fast, even for you.”

“Aunt P asked us to stay here… but conditionally.”

“Really?”

“Completely her idea,” Phryne said, “I can understand if you don’t… mmmm.” His hands were in her hair and he was kissing her again. Her objections to this ridiculous plan started to melt from the heat of his lips.

He pulled back, “You didn’t tell her about us?”

She shook her head, “I didn’t,” she looked down at her hands on his lapel, “You wanted to keep this private.”

He brought her hands to his lips. “Where do you want to start?” he asked, planting knuckle kisses.

“I _want_ to start with perfecting our cover story,” she said, a playful glint in her eye, “But we should probably start with Lady Philippa's room.”

“Good plan… darling.”

Phryne shivered with a mixture fear and arousal, “Darling?”

“I-I’m sorry… I thought it would be better to use…”

“No… it’s fine. A little unexpected… _Darling._ ” 

He stroked his hand down her hair, “Let’s go see about our crime scene.”

“How romantic!” she responded truthfully, “I should warn you about your romantic rival.”

“Ah…” confusion again, “an ‘Old Friend’?”

“We were never _friendly_ ,” she scrunched her nose, “Much to his chagrin. He has an unfortunate habit of proposing to me.”

“Do you want me to be the ‘jealous fiancé’ or the ‘oblivious-to-the-threat fiancé’?”

“Hmm. Let’s start with the latter,” Phryne said considering, “If necessary we can change to the former.”

 

* * *

Lady Philippa's belongings were strewn about her room.

“Jack, look,” Phryne spotted something near the foot of the bed, “fresh blood.”

Jack crouched near her, “Not a lot.”

“It looks as though something… or likely, someone… was dragged to the window.” she continued.

“Where there’s… more blood.” he noted.

Phryne unlocked and opened the window. 

“Is that a ladder?” Jack asked, squinting at the ground, “Evidently, Lady Philippa left the room via the window,” he rumbled.

“If Lady Philippa was dragged out of the window and down the ladder,” Phryne mused turning to him, “Who closed and locked the window?”

Phryne’s nearness caused Jack’s heart to thrum. “Excellent question, Miss Fisher.”

She closed the small distance between them, closing her eyes and speaking against his lips, “I have several other questions, Inspector. Would you like me to ask them?”

“Here?” he returned, nuzzling her nose.

“We are engaged, _darling,_ ” hands snaking into his jacket.

“At a crime scene?” hands finding her hips.

“Hmm.. how many crime scenes have I imagined contaminating with you?”

“Tell me more about your… imaginings,” he pulled her hips against him. It seemed he meant to deepen their previous conversation, “later.”

“Spoilsport,” she nuzzled him back.

 

“Phryne? Phryne!” a booming voice broke up their amorous discussion.

Reflexively, Jack pulled away from Phryne. She held him fast. “Horace,” she forced a smile.

Lord Klempton was unusually handsome. He was tall, muscularly built, jet-black hair, gleaming white teeth, and thick eyebrows over crystal blue eyes. He was impeccably dressed in a grey pinstripe suit. He looked like an American film star. In fact, Jack had trouble understanding how he and Phryne weren’t “old friends.”

“Pru told me you were engaged,” Horace beamed, “Let me shake the hand of the man who finally broke this little filly.” 

And there it was. 

That explained it.

Jack turned back to Phryne. Her nostrils were flaring, jaw clenching. He released Phryne, extending his hand to the oaf. “Jack Robinson. Pleasure to meet you, Lord Klempton.”

“Please, Jack… Horace,” he grinned, attempting to crush Jack’s hand. The grin flickered when realizing Jack was matching his grip, “How’d you do it, mate?”

“Ah… we’ve worked together for some time,” Jack answered honestly, “We’ve just… decided to make our partnership official.”

The larger man affected a smile, darting eyes between the two detectives, “No, really?”

 

_Enough,_ thought Phryne, “What are you doing in here, Horace?”

Horace puffed up, “I heard voices. Pru told us Phil was missing… thought I’d investigate. See if the kidnappers might return to the scene of the crime.”

“Who said anything about kidnapping?” Phryne asked.

“Uh… well, Pru said she was missing. I figured with the threats…”

Jack narrowed his eyes, “What threats?”

“I thought Pru knew? Phil tried to sell Diadem. Said someone was threatening her to get out of the ponies.”

“Were you tempted?” Phryne asked.

“That old nag? Not for that price,” he scoffed, “worth more dead.” 

“Thank you. That was remarkably helpful,” Phryne was genuinely surprised.

He nodded acknowledgement and turned to leave, “Well pulled, mate,” he said to Jack, “Feel free to share.”

“That ass,” Phryne hissed as he left.

“You know I don’t…” Jack started before Phryne placed a finger on his lips, her eyes softened.

“I know,” tracing the bow of his lips, “I liked what you said… making our partnership official.”

“It’s true,” he said soft and low, “Even if the engagement isn’t.”

“It is,” she pressed her lips against his tentatively.

He let out a deep hum, “I could get used to this.”

Phryne pulled back, “Jack? What do you want us to be?”

Jack furrowed his brow, “I-I don’t know. I decided to pursue…I didn’t expect to catch.”

“I think,” she said with uncharacteristic caution, “we should take things slowly.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jack,” cupping his face, “You are… my best friend. I want this partnership to grow. But… I can’t lose you. Not again. I couldn’t bear it.”

Jack studied the floor. Phryne planted a kiss on his forehead.

“Until you know what you _really_ want,” Phryne continued, “And until _I_ know what I really want…” 

“We should proceed slowly,” completed Jack, “this is very unlike you.”

She smiled, “I’m not indifferent to your presence in my life. I’d like it to be more. Too often, connections end quickly. I don’t want that for us.”

“Phryne, I… “ he hesitated, “have very strong feelings for you. I want to be with you.”

“And I with you,” Phryne said, “neither of us have the best history regarding relationships,”

He nodded, “What do you suggest? I’m not sure I can stop kissing you now that I’ve started.”

She leaned in, capturing his lower lip—eliciting a groan, “I don’t want to stop. I just want us to savor,” she sucked at his lip, “every,” her tongue darted out, tracing his top lip, “moment.”

“I like the sound of that… what’s next?”

“With us, or the case?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Inspector Robinson,” Aunt P’s housekeeper Mrs. Chamberlain interrupted their materteral hunt, “There’s a telephone call for you, sir.”

Jack nodded acknowledgement. “I’ll see to this, find your aunt.” He leaned forward, lightly pecking Phryne’s lips

* * *

“Aunt P!” Phryne found her in the drawing room speaking to a slight woman with dull blonde hair and unstylish clothing.

“Phryne, this is Mrs. Leggett… Lady Philippa's maid.”

Phryne smiled at the maid, “When did you last see the Marchioness?”

“I turned down her bed… helped her into her night clothes. Her ladyship reads before falling asleep, so I left the light on. When I went to switch it off… she was gone.”

“Was the window open?”

Mrs. Leggett frowned, “I don’t think so… No. I’m sure it was shut. It was odd because she usually liked the fresh air,” she began weeping, “how could this happen?!”

“Do you know anything about Lady Philippa being threatened?”

Prudence and Mrs. Leggett tensed almost unnoticeably.

“Th-threats, Miss Fisher?” Mrs. Leggett stammered,

“I had hoped you could enlighten me. Lord Klempton said Lady Philippa was being intimidated into leaving the horse business.”

“I-I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, dear girl,” Prudence comforted her. She turned to her niece, “ _Mr._ Leggett is Diadem’s trainer.”

“I see. Lady Philippa getting out of the horses could limit either your employment or your marriage.”

Mrs. Leggett nodded.

“Now Diadem is dead and Lady Philippa missing,” Phryne considered, “Aunt P? Did you know about the threats?”

He aunt looked away, closing her eyes.

“Aunt P?”

Prudence turned to her niece, “No. I didn’t know about _Philippa_.”

“Have you been threatened? Is that why we’re here?”

“I will not be cowed in my own home!”

“How can I help you if you keep things from me?”

Jack’s entrance saved the excuses.

“Inspector!” Prudence exhaled.

“Mrs. Stanley,” he bowed slightly, “I’m sorry to interrupt but, Mi…” he caught himself, glancing at Mrs. Leggett, “ _Darling_? A word?”

“Jack! Aunt P’s being threatened.”

“I see,” Jack frowned, “We’ll need to investigate that, but… Phryne... I need a private word.”

* * *

“There’s been a murder,” Jack stated once Phryne released his lips. She had cut off his first attempt to explain what he needed with an urgent kiss. “I have to go.”

“A murder?” She pouted, “We have a possible murder here, not to mention the suspicious death of a horse.”

“This may be connected. The body was discovered at Flemington Racetrack. Possibly a coincidence?”

“Unlikely. I’ll go with you.”

Jack shook his head, “See what you can find out here. If these are connected… your aunt could be in danger.”

Jack kissed her hand and then quickly took his leave.

Mrs. Leggett had gone when Phryne returned to Aunt Prudence.

“Alright, Aunt P. Spill. I need to know everything. Tell me about the threat.”

Prudence drew back—contemplating protest—but finally acquiesced, “It's in the office.”

* * *

Phryne read it again:

_forfeit the Handicap or forfeit Yar life._

The note was pieced together from bits of racing form.

Prudence had retired, leaving Phryne with the note and an overview of her recent foray into racehorse ownership.

She wished she’d gone with Jack.

_Jack._ Her feelings for Jack were strong, but when he wasn’t immediately in front of her, begging to be kissed… it was complicated.

_Why doesn’t he know what he wants? He probably does know, he’s just afraid it won’t be what I want. What do I want? Can I really be hap…_

“Miss?” Mrs. Chamberlain interrupted her internal monologue, “Mr. Johnson and Mr. Yates are here.”

“Thank you. Send them in, please.”

“What are you two doing here?” Phryne greeted them.

“Ran into your Inspector,” Bert reported, “said you’d be needing backup.”

“How fortuitous! I do need help,” she confirmed, “head to the stables… keep an eye on things. Aunt P’s horse Pharos, particularly.”

“Pharos?” Bert asked, “The racehorse? When did Mrs. Stanley buy him?”

“And why that one?” Cec added scoffing.

“A fortnight ago. Still trying to figure out ‘why’,” Phryne tapped her fingers, “That’s why I need you.”

“Yeah, awright,” Bert responded, “Something particular we’re looking for?”

“I’m not sure,” Phryne considered, “The veterinarian is coming to necropsy Diadem. Most of the trainers will be in bed, but try to pay attention to anything… odd.”

“The usual, then Miss?” Cec grinned.

“Cheeky! I’ll walk with you. I’ll need to talk to Mr. Leggett… or whoever’s awake.”

* * *

“Hello?” she called over the door to Diadem’s stall. The veterinarian was already there, “Any thoughts on cause of death?”

“I’d say poison. She has an excessive amount of foaming saliva, she’s tremendously blocked up, and her trainer,” he nodded at a man in the corner Phryne had failed to notice, “reports she’s been colicky. Looks like poison to me—but won’t know for sure till we get the report.”

“Could it have been accidental?” Phryne asked.

“Certainly,” the vet replied, “But I think it’s too early to determine that… at least until we know what kind of poison—presuming it is poison—we’re dealing with.”

Phryne nodded understanding.

“If you’ll excuse me,” the vet said, “I need to check on the other horses.”

Phryne turned her attention to the man standing silent with swollen red eyes standing in the corner.

“Mr. Leggett, I presume?”

He didn’t look at her, just nodded in agreement, “Bob.”

“Pardon?”

“Call me Bob. Mr. Leggett was me dad. I’m just Bob.”

“Very well, Bob,” she caved, “can you tell me what happened? As much as you can remember.”

“Yeah, awright,” Bob agreed, “I’s havin’ dinner with the missus up at the house. We finished with that, and I come down to the stable. Di’s rolling around in her stall like she’s got the colic… only that ain’t like her. She’s always been fit as a fiddle.”

“I’ve heard rumours that Diadem wasn’t fit for racing anymore,” Phryne studied the slight man carefully, “Any truth to that?”

Bob was taken aback, “Nah, missus. Not a bit of it.”

“You think she could have been competitive?” Phryne asked.

Bob snuffled and nodded, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, “I think she coulda won it.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Over here, Sir!” Jack heard the voice of his best constable through the fog. 

“What do we have, Collins?

“Charles Chandler. Fifty years old. He has stab wounds to his stomach and hands. We haven’t found a knife yet.”

“Chandler? He’s that off-track bookie for the ponies, if it’s the same bloke.” 

A missing owner, a dead horse, and now a dead horse bookie… all connected with Flemington Racetrack… and the biggest Handicap before the Melbourne Cup was tomor— he glanced at his watch—later today. Jack was always suspicious of coincidence. 

There was a sheen of moisture on the cobbles of the road. It hadn’t rained in days, but the air was thick, cold, and damp with fog from the bay. They’d have to wait for the coroner to be certain, but from how minimally damp the corpse was, Jack guessed Chandler couldn’t have been there more than a couple of hours at most.

“Any luck determining why Chandler was out here so late tonight, Collins?”

“Other than the big race tomorrow, no sir.”

“Did he have any money on him?”

“Yes, sir. Quite a lot sir.”

“I need to get back to the Stanley Estate, but I suppose we should notify the next of kin.”

* * *

“Pardon the intrusion, Mrs. Chamberlain,” the well dressed man standing in the servants’ entry of the Stanley Estate greeted as she opened the door, “Miss Fisher rang and asked that I bring some overnight things for her and the Inspector.” He lifted the small bags. 

“Of course, please come in, Mr. Butler!” Mrs. Chamberlain was probably close to fifty years old, but a lady never tells such things. Mr. Butler realized he’d been making excuses lately to drop by the Stanley Estate. He knew this lovely lady, with the chestnut hair (ever-so lightly streaked with silver) styled in side-swirls, was the reason why. She had the most lovely grey eyes. 

“Can I get you a cuppa?” those lovely grey eyes glistened at him.

“It’s terribly late, Mrs. Chamberlain,” he said sadly. He was sorely tempted, but that was a dangerous path. 

“Of course,” she said sounding dejected. 

Mr. Butler smiled and turned to leave. 

“Pass the congratulations on to your mistress. I never thought she’d get married,” Mrs. Chamberlain piped up as he was almost out the door.

“Beg pardon?” Mr. Butler turned back to her.

“They do seem quite happy.”

“Married to whom?”

“That Inspector fella. He’s a good chap.”

Mr. Butler was reeling. He knew that Miss Fisher and the Inspector had come to an understanding, but… _MARRIED?!_

“Perhaps I could use some tea, after all Mrs. Chamberlain.”

“Call me, Polly.”

* * *

Charles Chandler’s home was large and gaudy. It looked as if it were a large house built on the backs of the tiny bungalows that made up the rest of the neighborhood. 

“Yeah, whaddya want?” a slovenly man of about 30 greeted the policemen. 

“Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. Is this the residence of Charles Chandler?” Jack asked sternly as he flashed his credentials. 

“Yeah. I’m Charles Chandler.”

Jack blinked at the man. “Charles Chandler, the off-track bookmaker?”

“Oh, no… that’s me dad.”

Jack nodded in understanding, “Mr. Chandler, may we have a word inside?” Jack smiled at the man. 

“Chuck, who is it?” a young woman of about twenty-five sloshed her drink as she stumbled giggling behind the man, “Oh, the coppers.”

“Good evening, Miss --?”

“Mrs.” the woman corrected, attempting to pull herself together, “Mrs. Charles Chandler.”

“Your wife?” Jack asked ‘Chuck’.

The woman snorted a laugh, “I’m his mum!”

“Stepmum, Doris,” Chandler the younger admonished. 

Doris giggled again. 

“Mrs. Chandler. Mr. Chandler,” Jack interrupted the familial discussion, “I need to speak with both of you.”

“Chuck, let them in!” Doris fussed at her stepson. 

“What is this all about?” Chuck Chandler was agitated. 

Jack glanced around the room, noting a family portrait above the fireplace showing Doris, Chuck, and the deceased.

“Is that your husband, Mrs. Chandler?” Jack asked nodding toward the cheaply done portrait.

“It is! We just had it delivered last week. Don’t I look wonderful?” Doris bubbled. 

“Where is your husband, ma’am?” Jack asked.

“Dad always works late down the track before a big race. He’s probably taking a few large bids. Why?”

“Where have you both been this evening?” Jack pressed.

“What’s it to you?” Chuck sneered.

“Here, Inspector. Chuck has been helping me with my… household accounting,” Doris cut off Chuck’s growing agitation.

“And neither of you left all evening?”

The pair blushed as they stole looks at each other. Jack guessed their true relationship was legally Oedipal. 

“No. What’s this about?” Doris, though apparently younger than her stepson, was clearly the authority.

Jack took a deep breath. He hated this bit. “I’m sorry to inform you that the body of Charles Chandler Sr. was discovered earlier this evening.”

The pair stared at Jack, darting eyes to Hugh to see if the policemen were firm in their seriousness.

Finally, Chuck huffed out a breath, “You’re joking.”

“I’m afraid not, sir,” Jack shook his head, “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Uh… dinner, I suppose. About 6:00,” the young man said. 

Mrs. Chandler nodded, “Yeah, that’s right. How did he die?”

“We’re still waiting for the coroner’s report, but it appears to be foul play,” the pair shot each other an ‘angry’ look, “do you know anyone who would like to harm the elder Mr. Chandler?”

The pair looked genuinely stunned. 

“Uh… how's about e’ry punter who’s ever lost a sixpence to ‘im?” Chuck offered his theory of crime, “Probably some punter saw the old man and took his opportunity. That’s what I’d reckon.”

“Do either of you know Lady Philippa Leveson-Bowes?” Jack’s rapid shift in direction caused them both to inhale sharply.

Doris responded, “My brother Bob is the trainer for her horse, but I’ve never met her.”

Chuck closed his eyes in frustration. Jack decided these two were involved somehow, but he wasn’t seeing how it all fit.

“I’d like you both to accompany us to the police station. I have a few more questions I’d like to ask you both... Collins.” 

Jack ran his hand over his face in exhaustion. It was nearly 1:00 a.m. Six hours ago Jack’s world had shifted dramatically. Six hours ago, he was kissing Concetta goodbye. Four hours ago, he was kissing Phryne hello.

_Why doesn’t she know what she wants? She always knows. She probably does know, she’s just afraid it won’t be what I want. What do I want? Can I really be hap…_

“Are you coming, sir?” Hugh interrupted his internal musings.

“I need to check back in with Miss Fisher to see what she’s turned up. Collins, make these two comfortable at the station.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Jack! There you are!” Phryne strutted towards him. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face as she looped her arms around his neck. She kissed him soundly before he had a chance to formulate words.

“Find anything?” he asked resting his forehead against hers, his hands finding her hips.

“The veterinarian is reasonably certain that Diadem was poisoned. He’s checking on the other horses now. Bert and Cec are keeping an eye on things. And I think whoever was sending the threats is connected with the race course. I had a talk with Diadem’s trainer…”

“Would that be Bob?”

“How on earth do you know that?” Phryne pulled back and looked at him in shock.

“I have Bob’s sister at the station,” he smirked. He wasn’t used to having the upper hand, “As it happens, Bob’s sister was recently widowed.”

“Your murder victim?”

“Mmm… Charles Chandler.”

“The bookie?” 

“The same. I found Mrs. Chandler at home with her stepson. _They_ seem quite close.”

“How old is Mrs. Chandler?” Phryne asked trying to catch up. 

“A bit younger than her stepson,” Jack’s hands flexed on her hips, “Neither one seemed particularly upset at the death of Chandler senior.”

“So, Mrs. Chandler and Chandler junior are having an affair. And Bob’s his uncle?” she grinned. Jack rolled his eyes. “I think I can see some of it, but why is Diadem dead?” 

“Let’s go find Bob and see if we can work that out,” he pulled her close and kissed her deeply.

They heard a voice clearing behind them. Cec, Bert, and the veterinarian were standing just inside the door. The veterinarian looked slightly embarrassed. Cec wore a wide grin. Bert’s mouth was open in shock, cigarette barely hanging onto his bottom lip. 

Cec managed to speak first, “Miss… Dr. Chase found something you need to know.”

The veterinarian Dr. Chase cleared his throat, “Um, yes, quite.”

“Are the other horses alright?” Phryne jumped the question.

“The horse you know as Pharos has been poisoned, but he didn’t eat as much and should recover.”

“What do you mean the horse we _know as_ Pharos?” Phryne’s eyes narrowed.

“According to his pedigree, he’s only five years old... according to his teeth, he’s twenty.”

“Twenty! Are you sure?”

Chase nodded, “It can’t be the ‘Pharos’ from the record because that horse’s sire is only ten, and his dam only eight.”

“What about Diadem?” Phryne asked.

“I didn’t think anything of it at first because of the poisoning, but when I found such a great age difference with Pharos I checked again. The dead horse can’t be the Diadem of record. Diadem is three, that horse is at least five years old. Just like Pharos, the markings are exactly the same. Excepting the age and, presumably condition, there’s nary a difference.”

“What about Klempton’s horse... Nachtmusik?” Phryne pressed.

“Also poisoned, though not as severely as the other two. More relevant to your query, Nachtmusik appears to be who she says she is.”

Phryne turned to the cabbies, “Where’s Bob?”

Bert finally seemed to have collected himself from the shock, “Scarpered.”

“Well, go find him!” Phryne insisted. She then turned to the veterinarian, “Thank you, Dr. Chase. Let us know if there’s anything else you find out.”

The three men left. 

“We need to talk to your aunt.”

Phryne wrapped her arms around Jack’s waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “Yes. It may have to wait until morning. Waking Aunt P is a dangerous proposition.”

“Mmm,” he kissed the top of her head, “I can imagine.”

“Do you need to get back to City South? Interview the Chandlers?”

“We’ll let them sweat it out a little. At least until we can find Bob.”

Phryne tilted her head up to look at him, “It’s been quite a day, Inspector. Nightcap?”

He shifted to plant a soft kiss on her lips, “It has. I should probably keep my wits… do you think I might be able to scare up a cocoa or a hot milk?”

She smiled, giving him a squeeze, “I’ll summon Mrs.Chamberlain.”

* * *

“Good morning, Miss.” Dot’s voice sounded slightly hesitant. Sunlight fell across the bed from the wrong angle. 

Phryne blinked quickly trying to knock the sleep from her eyes, “Dot? When did you get here?”

“About an hour ago, Miss.”

Phryne sat up groggily accepting the tea cup Dot proffered. “Thank you, Dot.” 

“The… Inspector is awake, Miss.”

Something in Dot’s tone gave her pause. How was she going to keep this from her closest friend. “Dot, I…”

“Congratulations, Miss. The Inspector is a great man,” Dot definitely sounded hurt. 

“Oh, Dot… do you think I’d get engaged and not tell you? It’s all a ruse.”

“A ruse, Miss?” 

“Aunt P couldn’t handle the scandal of two consulting adults spending so much time together without the pretense of an engagement, so…”

Dot scrunched her brows in thought, “So it’s all fake? Why did Cec say you were kissing him?”

Drat. “We have to make it look real, Dot,” she said with a shrug and a smile.

“And the Inspector agreed to this?” Dot was becoming too good a detective. 

“I’m very persuasive… now, any word about the runaway trainer?”

“Yes, Miss. Hugh picked him up first thing this morning at Flinders Street Station. Your aunt is insisting that you and the Inspector stay for breakfast.”

“Wonderful news! I’ll be right down.”

* * *

“Phryne! At last, I thought you’d sleep all morning,” Aunt Prudence greeted her.

“Aunt P, it’s not even half eight!” She walked over to Jack’s chair, placing her hand on his shoulder and giving him a peck on the cheek, “Good morning, Darling.”

Jack smiled warmly at her, “Good morning, Darling. Sleep well?”

“Mmm… you?”

“Alright you love birds,” Lord Klempton interrupted their greeting, “Save it for the wedding night.”

Phryne rolled her eyes so only Jack could see. He stifled his grin quite well, considering. She took a seat next to Jack, “Good morning, Horace,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“Have you caught the blighter who poisoned my horse?” Horace directed to Jack.

“We have several suspects in custody. We’ll be questioning them after breakfast,” Jack responded.

“Good… it takes a man to get these things done properly.” 

Jack felt fingers digging into his thigh. “I wouldn’t say that, Lord Klempton,” Jack shook his head, “Miss Fisher catches things the men on the force overlook all the time.” The tight digging turned into a loving caress. 

“Aunt P, how did you come to buy Pharos? You’ve never shown any interest in horse racing before. You were always a dressage woman.” Enough of the buffoon. 

“It was Philippa, chiefly… and Horace here… who convinced me. It seemed like a good investment.” Prudence responded. 

“A good investment? Aunt P, there’s a great deal of risk involved in racehorse ownership. Why on earth would you think it’s a good idea?”

“Well, Philippa and Horace showed me the pedigree and Pharos winning records, do you know he’s favored to win the Melbourne Cup this year?” Prudence puffed up with a small amount of pride, “assuming he makes a full recovery, of course. And he was surprisingly affordable.”

“He’s affordable because he isn’t Pharos,” Phryne said.

“I don’t understand... “ Prudence looked between her niece and her good friend, “Horace, you confirmed that horse was Pharos.”

“Pru… “ Horace paled. 

Jack stood. “Lord Klempton, I’d like for you to accompany us down to the station.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Where is Lady Philippa?” Jack was getting a little tired of asking this question of Horace Jones-Bailey, Earl of Klempton.

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“Is she alive?”

“I don’t know.”

Phryne cut in, “Why did you lie to my aunt about Pharos?”

“I…” The interview room door opened and a small man with almost no chin and an incredibly expensive suit stepped in. Jack thought he looked rather like a dapper turtle.

“This interview is over. My client has nothing more to say.”

* * *

Phryne growled in frustration as she collapsed in Jack’s chair. 

“Everyone knows something, but no one seems to know everything,” she picked at her scarf. 

Jack sat on her spot on the edge of the desk and smirked down at her, “Is this part of our nuptial arrangement? You get my chair?”

She lifted an eyebrow at him before reclining in the chair and putting her feet in his lap. Jack gripped her ankle lightly and began rubbing circles on her leg. 

“We should go dancing,” Phryne announced. 

“It’s 10:00 in the morning.”

“Not right now, at some point… soon… we should go dancing.”

“Ah…” Jack pressed his lips together, “I’m not much of a dancer, I’m afraid.”

“Oh. I see.”

“It doesn’t mean _you_ shouldn’t go dancing!” Jack hastened to add, “I’ll try, of course. I want to go with you... I’m just saying that if you want to go dancing you should go dancing and not worry about whether I can… mmm...” Phryne had jumped up from Jack’s chair, grabbed the sides of his head and was now kissing him senseless. After a solid minute of kissing she pulled away, taking his lower lip with her part of the way, “whether I can make it out with you or not… mmm…” She kissed him again until he started chuckling against her lips. 

“You infuriating man.”

“I’m not saying I don’t want to be with you all the time, because honestly, I’m happier around you than when I’m not.”

“But…”

“But, we’re different people. It’s what I lo… like... It’s what I like most about you… I meant it when I said I’d never ask you to change. Sometimes you’ll want to go dancing and I’ll want to stay home reading a western. We can do different things.”

“You read westerns? That’s it. We’re over.”

He smiled, pulling her back into a kiss as she turned to walk away. She melted into the kiss, looping her arms around his neck. 

“Mmm… Jack…” she pushed away, “I think I figured it out!”

* * *

“Hullo, Bob,” Phryne picked up her Collingwood tune.

“Missus,” the man nodded not meeting the eye of either the woman seated across from him or the man leaning against the window. 

“I’ve got a few more questions for you.”

“Already told ya all I know.”

“I don’t think you have, Bob. I think you’re the one who knows all the parts of this mess, even if you don’t realize it. Where’s Lady Philippa?” Bob looked sharply at Phryne. “She’s not dead, is she? Bob, if you can help us find her… “

“If I says I know sumthin’ you’ll jam me up. I know how it works.”

“If you tell us who told you to kidnap her and where she is, we can help you,” Phryne said.

“I don’t need no help. I don’t know what you think you...”

“Let me tell you what I think, Bob. I think that you were told to get rid of Lady Philippa, but you weren’t told why. I think Lady Philippa told you she saw Mr. Chandler poisoning the horses.” Bob looked at her in alarm. “I think that you stabbed Mr. Chandler in retaliation for killing Diadem.”

“How…”

“It was Lord Klempton who asked you to get rid of Lady Philippa, wasn’t it, Bob?”

Bob nodded dumbly. 

“You must have known that Diadem wasn’t really Diadem.”

Tears stood in Bob’s eyes. 

“Yeah, but she were a good horse. She were the sweetest, best horse. I think she coulda surprised us all.”

* * *

“It’s an interesting theory, Phryne,” the dark-haired peer sitting across the table from her sneered, “I’d like to know how you think you’re going to prove it.”

“We have the the testimony of your accomplice. The one who is still alive,” Jack said from his station at the window. 

“Hah! Where’s my motive? My horse was poisoned, too. And that’s your only evidence? The word of a simpleton murderer?”

“Yes, that was a difficulty. You might have gotten away with all of it had your accomplices not been after their own objectives,” Phryne said, “Or had you not placed such a large wager against your own horse.”

“You knew the top ranked horses weren’t going to win. You made sure of that. Unfortunately for you, Mr. Chandler still had your wager on him when Mr. Leggett stabbed him.”

“Still doesn’t prove anything!” Horace snapped. 

“The word of Lady Philippa will probably go pretty far, however,” Phryne smirked at him.

Horace’s jaw dropped, “But she’s…”

“She’s what, Horace?” Phryne goaded, “Dead? Bob couldn’t do it. She’s alive. Shaken but alive. You thought she’d found out about the fraud, but she hadn’t. Not until you ordered her kidnapped. She’d seen Chandler poisoning the horses. You tried to have her silenced before she even knew you were involved. To bad for you Bob’s loyalties were always to the dam.”

“I…”

“Not another word, Lord Klempton,” his lawyer cut in. 

Jack stepped forward, “Horace Jones-Bailey, you are under arrest for kidnap, fraud, and depraved indifference.”

* * *

“I feel like such a fool,” Prudence wailed. 

“Aunt P, you’ve had a lot on your mind. And you think the best of people. Please don’t blame yourself.”

Prudence huffed, “I can’t believe I bought a fraudulent race horse. I still don’t understand the whole thing.”

“It was a terribly confused plan. Horace convinced you, and Lady Philippa to buy the horses, knowing they’d never be competitive, despite their apparent pedigrees. Philippa saw Chandler poisoning the horses and tried to warn Horace. He misunderstood what she knew and ordered Chandler and Bob to get rid of her. He didn’t care how. Once Bob realized that Diadem was dead by his brother-in-law Chandler’s hand, he killed him. He didn’t see any point in killing Philippa.”

“So… who was threatening me?” Prudence sniffed.

“Ah, excellent question. It turns out Chandler’s wife and son were having an affair. They found out about the scam and thought if they could disrupt the race, they could take over Chandler Senior’s operation. It had nothing to do with Horace, excepting that the threat Philippa received and her witnessing Chandler Senior poisoning the horses caused her to become a liability.”

“What a mess,” Prudence shook her head, “You must be relieved it’s over and you can stop pretending to be engaged.”

Phryne smiled sadly, “Yes. Relieved.” 


	7. Epilogue

“The Inspector, Miss,” Mr. Butler announced. 

“Thank you, Mr. Butler,” Phryne stood putting down _Sons and Lovers_ and standing, “We can handle things from here. Enjoy your evening with Mrs. Chamberlain.”

Mr. Butler did something she never thought she’d witness. He blushed.

“Thank you, Miss Fisher. We’re going to the symphony this evening.”

“How marvelous! Have a wonderful time.”

“Thank you, Miss. Inspector,” the older man gave a short bow, closing the parlour doors behind him. 

“Cognac?” she offered.

“Please.”

They toasted and sipped before Phryne eased into Jack’s arms, tilting her head for a soft kiss. 

“Good evening, Miss Fisher.”

“What happened to darling?” 

Jack smirked, “We did call off the engagement.”

“I’d gotten rather used to it,” Phryne pouted. 

“I’m still not certain it’s wise to say that in public,” Jack pointed out. 

“No,” Phryne considered, “I suppose not.”

He moved his mouth close to her ear, “Of course, every time I say ‘Miss Fisher’, I’m really saying ‘my darling’”

Phryne gasped, “Jack.”

She turned her face to meet his lips. She kissed him. Gently at first. Becoming more urgent as her heart beat faster. 

They finally pulled apart. 

“Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think we’ll ever get to the point of sharing what we have with the world?”

“I hope so, Miss Fisher.”

“How will we know if we’re ready to take that step?” She asked tracing his lips with her fingertips. “It all seems so complicated.”

Jack thought for a moment, “Perhaps, we can signal we’re ready by overture.”

“Overture?”

“If we decide we’re ready, we make a romantic overture… and our private conversation can be shouted from the mountaintops.”

“I like the sound of that,” she said smiling.


End file.
